shit happens much too often

What are rare sunny days during barren frozen winters if not meant to go out scampering in the world and do a bit of rambling, a bit of idle nothing.

And this indeed was my agenda.. a few fruitful long minutes of staring at trees, flowing river, bus stops and zebra crossings, I made my way towards a courier office, wherefrom I could send some couriers.  After which I took an extra long cut and headed towards some well meaning vegetable shops.

Something about winters that brings forth my inner green revolutionary and I can barely contain my excitement when faced with bundles of green leafy veggies. 

I kind of lose myself and binge on the chlorophyll kissed leafage and before I even realize end up feeling like a petite version of hulk, minus the rage.

So something mirroring the above mentioned happened today. I loaded up on the vegetables and made my way towards a rather enticing orange coloured fruit shop when habitually I let my hand slide inside my handbag to confirm its contents when lo! my fingers failed to find the smooth surface of my phone.

I jabbed my fingers in again, more forceful this time, still maintaining a nonchalant pace towards the now fast approaching orange awned shop and my fingers still couldn't trace the smooth of the screen, which only meant one thing, my phone was missing from my bag.

I unzipped its mouth in entirety and dived in straight to get a better look, but indeed, the phone was in fact MIA. 

I knew I didn't leave the phone at home, having looked up at an address in the courier office, and remembered carrying it after that to send some messages. So somewhere between the aforementioned office and vegetable shop my phone was missing and I didn't tuck it away in my jeans for sure, my pockets not being large enough to contain that beastly mammoth. 

I didn't remember placing the phone anywhere on the vegetable shop premises, so where was it?

Oh, I suddenly remembered, I'd gone into a small shop to buy aluminium foil. Yess, I left it there.

Thankfully the shop was but a few paces behind and I entered, greeting once again the familiar faces and asked the shop girl if I left my phone there. 

'No' she said, and asked me my number, so she could dial and find some more clues.

I punched in my number on her phone, growing more annoyed by the minute and within a few seconds it rang, somewhere inside of me.

Gowing perplexed, relieved and embarrassed..a trio of emotions with only one face to express I simply smiled and thanked the dear shop girl.

Letting myself out and checking my outfit once again to ascertain where on earth did I scurry my phone in my jacket, when a lightning bolt of realization, that dear me had changed her clothes before leaving, donning a special jacket meant to ward of particularly cold days that housed almost a dozen pockets and I'd unthinkingly stashed away my phone in an inner pocket and zipped the damn jacket. 

So of course the outer pockets were empty and I couldn't for the life of me feel anything within because of its special goose feather stuffing that bloated the jacket like an obese fabric, and I recalled every instances, but one, where I'd tucked away my phone while crossing the road. The only aberration being that instead of my bag I stashed it in my jacket.

Say one thing about me, say I have absent minded moments of  monumental stupidity. 

How damn silly of me. Come on. This shouldn't happen, and yet, it did. Either winters have frozen my brains or my grey cells have taken to committing seppuku by the minute. 

gah, I'm so pissed with myself.